Lesson learned: I am not calm in emergency situations

Here's a rough outline of most of my day so far:

7:15 AM

"Seniors, please come in and take your seat. Seat number one is on the outside. Seat thirteen is by your row sponsor. If you do not have your robe, go out to your cars and get it."

8:15 AM

"Teachers, it is now time to escort your students to the auditorium for convocation."

9:15 AM

"The award for outstanding science student goes to: ______ ______."

10:15 AM

"Let's go get changed. Then we can meet everyone at the coffee shop."

11:15 AM

"There's supposed to be golf-ball sized hail. The lights are flickering here. Stay inside."

"There's a bad storm coming in from the southeast."

12:00 PM

"We're packing up the senior picnic. There's a tornado warning. Sorry."*

"I'm just about to walk into the school. Stay safe. Bye."

"The school is going into a Code 99 lock down. Clear the halls and get inside the nearest classroom."

"Fuck." (That one was me.)

"My car got flipped!"

"It's going to be okay. I'm right here."

12:30 PM

"Tornado spotted near the southeast of town."

"Where are you? Are you in the basement? Okay, I love you. Bye."

"I tried calling _____, but I couldn't get a hold of her." "Don't worry, I did. She's fine."

"Did anyone get through to the other high school? Does anybody know if they're okay?"

"The tornado is traveling north along the interstate."

1:00 PM

"The tornado warning has now expired. There is still a severe weather warning. For the purposes of attendance, do not leave the building, but report immediately to your third hour class. I repeat, do not go outside."

"Stay away from the windows, just to be safe."

1:30 PM

"The building is no longer under lock down. Anyone who has transportation may leave for early release."

3:00 PM

"You have seven new messages." "Five of them are from Dad."

---

As far as I understand it, the tornado did not actually go through my town. We did have heavy rain, some small hail, and strong winds, but the funnel passed to the east of us. Everyone I know is okay. However, the town a few miles north of us does have property damage, and one death has been reported. And, that's pretty much all I can think of to say.

http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory?id=4911397

*Apparently he doesn't understand what the phrase "tornado warning" means.

Escape from the iron fist

In just a little more than two weeks, I will be free from the American public school system. And I feel sorry for all the people who won't be, like my sister, who has had to suffer from people with ample knowledge about the subjects they teach, but abysmal knowledge of human nature. She will continue to suffer from them for six more years, these people who don't understand that their iron-fisted rules are ridiculous, that an appeal to authority is no longer sufficient for explaining their behavior. And I'm sad, because even if we rail against these fools now, she'll be out of that school and on to the next in less than a month, and they'll forget about us.

They'll forget that taking away recess from people who failed to turn in completely optional slips stating their intent to participate in completely optional events is stupid. They'll forget that forcing almost-teenagers to have their parents sign their day planners, and then chastising students who didn't have a signature - who may have forgotten it for only one day out of the entire school year - as "irresponsible," sends a very negative, potentially harmful message. They'll forget that subverting an activity originally designed to help students with their homework into a means of punishment is wrong. And they'll continue to do what they've always done, because they don't know a better way, or because they think they're doing what's best.

In the end, there's not really anything I can do about. They won't listen to their students, and they are incredibly stubborn, considering the run around and flat-out lies they gave my father when he railed against them a few years ago. But it's so goddamn frustrating to know about the things they do. I guess at this point I should probably be glad they're not abusing anyone and put them out of my mind. There are greater dangers in the world than a couple of silly elementary school teachers (who are probably also incredibly frustrated by the public school system).

Something or other

(Notice: I think I may have even confused myself a bit while writing this, so be warned.)

I made the mistake of reading part of the introduction to A Room of One's Own, so that even before I read a word Virginia Woolf had written, I was intimidated by her. She must be a genius, I thought, to be spoken of so by Susan Gubar. What if I don't understand her as I should? I am no genius.

Fiction based on two speeches, as the first footnote informed me. Interesting. But this was no sort of fiction I had ever before encountered. Though she said, "'I' is only a convenient term for somebody who was no real being," Virginia Woolf was indubitably speaking - to me! In a rather curious fashion of writing, too, as if there were so many words fighting to escape that she hardly paid attention to where they fell.

The first part was a pleasant enough journey, although I could have very well done without her slapping about her mothers - not out of any sort of respect for the past, but because it was so silly of her to be thinking. But of course if I had known just how silly and at times, I must admit, incomprehensible the narrative would be I would have hardly bothered to spare any energy for such a trifle.

Past the second part I had to rest my mind, for she managed to fit in so many words (mostly by stretching out her paragraphs nigh indecently). I struggled to find the point of this Literati selection. A "landmark inquiry" it was regarded, but not much of interest. Perhaps that is the nature of this particular thing. The notion that this should reflect poorly on Virginia Woolf hadn't entered my mind, as it does now, though my malice is rather frustration. I shall demonstrate what I mean.

A very queer, composite being thus emerges. Imaginatively she is of the highest importance; practically she is completely insignificant. She pervades poetry from cover to cover; she is all but absent from history. She dominates the lives of kings and conquerors in fiction; in fact she was the slave of any boy whose parents forced a ring upon her finger. Some of the most inspired words, some of the most profound thoughts in literature fall from her lips; in real life she could hardly read, could scarcely speak, and was the property of her husband.

How insightful! Yet mere pages later her fanciful imagining of William Shakespeare's sister, which ends with the woman committing suicide, is something of an intellectual insult. So on more than one occasion I was forced to think back to the beginning and Virginia's Woof's disclaimer. And it occurred to me that maybe I am not supposed to like her. And so maybe in a way she is a genius.

But not long after the third part (or, excuse me, chapter) I had to put in a bookmark and set the story down. My thoughts were flying left and right as I examined the injustices of sexism now - especially in media advertising, which has always been a sore spot. Who do you expect to see in a laundry detergent commercial? Who knows that Jif is the superior peanut butter brand? Where are the fathers like mine that grumble over a dirty house and always having to wash the dishes and enjoy, more often than not, to cook and go grocery shopping? For the injustices of sexism one way also mark poorly the other: if a woman's place is in the kitchen, then that is not the man's place. And this hardly allows people to grow to be whomever they can.

And then, I wanted to know, not just that we knew little about women historically for a very long time, but why. I suspected I would have to take the long view of history, and also to do research, which I won't bore you with. Patriarchy grows from the hunter-gatherer society, from the biology of birth, according to those people who might know a thing or two about it. It is somewhat more complicated than that, but not, and highly unsatisfactory.

But, I will briefly commend Virginia Woolf, for anything which inflames my passions these days is a fine and good something.

I feel I am about to go rather long winded, and so shall try to end this for your sakes. Her gross generalizations, outrageous presumptions, and almost laughably bizarre views in the later parts were difficult to bear. I would have finished the book on time were if not for gems like these - Ah, nevermind. I have forgotten my grievances with this book. The end was quite redeeming. Or maybe I am just relieved to be done with it.

(And I am sometimes terrible at picking up the accent, so to speak, of an author. Of course, it's not quite the same as Virginia Woolf's, but it wasn't entirely intentional. But I don't know why I feel as though I should apologize...)

Don't panic!

My family and I have reverted to a dial-up Internet connection. It is a major pain in the ass, much worse than I remembered. I'll drop by Monday morning at the latest, depending on how things go this weekend. And, who knows when I'll post again (and he's not telling).

Another two-for-one

I buried this announcement in a post I don’t particularly want anyone to go back and read, so I’ll say it again: after roughly 130 pages, I put down The Plague and returned it to the library. I pretty much agree with Enonomi, except that, instead of “The death in the book was too removed,” I would say, “Everything in the book was too removed.” There was no real color or texture to the book. It was sort of like watching a black-and-white silent film, and those are only really fun for me when I sit around with a big group of friends and family and mock them.

By comparison, I really enjoyed Not the End of the World, by Christopher Brookmyre. I read it in the span of a week, which is quick for me these days, and it was fun. It was like a combination of some Internet conversations about atheism vs. Christianity, and the sort of nightmare scenario that I imagine might propel “militant atheists.”

The story begins with Sergeant Larry Freeman of the LAPD, who is assigned what is supposed to be an easy case: security for the American Feature Film Market, or AFFM, an event that showcases B-movie horror flicks. But, across the street from the AFFM’s hotel (the Pacific View, in Santa Monica), a fundamentalist Christian convention is taking place, and one of the leaders of the fundamentalist movement – Luther St. John, who struck me as a cross between Jerry Falwell, Mike Huckabee, and Ron Luce – takes time out of his busy schedule to fly in and recite the prophecy that he’s been broadcasting for months on his television station, the Christian Family Channel.

‘There’s just so much weird stuff going on, man. Strange phenomenon. Unexplained occurrences. Folks try and tell you it’s aliens or it’s government conspiracies, stupid stuff like that, but they’re just fooling themselves.’

‘Yeah,’ Steff agreed. ‘It’s amazing how gullible some people can be.’

‘Darn right. It’s God getting ready to rock’n’roll, I’m telling you. They laughed at the Reverend St. John in this city when he warned them, but he had seen the signs, and they won’t be laughing when the tidal wave hits. Then after that, we gotta spread the Word against the clock, because if this world doesn’t start some serious repenting… it’s over, man.’

As it’s 1999 and people are freaking out for no reason, this is not unexpected, but it does prompt a few fake bomb threats at Pacific View… and a real one. The danger for those involved – including Stephen Kennedy, a Scottish photographer sent by his magazine company to cover the AFFM, and Madeline Witherson AKA the “Whore of Babylon” – only increases from that point.

Meanwhile, four researchers working for the California Oceanic Research Institute go missing, in what is eerily reminiscent of the Mary Celeste. And, in the end, it’s connected to Luther St. John and his prophecy in a very big way.

I enjoyed this book because it was the opposite of The Plague: even if the story wasn’t particularly realistic (which didn’t bother me one bit), it didn’t hold back. There are “sexual deviants,” a bloody explosion, the grieving of a husband and wife, and plenty of expletives. I’m not going to ever read it again, or recommend it to anyone with high standards, but I had fun with it.

‘So you think maybe God was trying to remind me whose law was the more important?’

‘Very possibly, Daniel. This is one of the greatest questions that we face in these difficult times, when the laws of the land seem ever more at odds with the laws of the Lord. We all want to be good citizens as well as good Christians, but is it one day going to come down to a choice between one or the other?’

‘Well if it does, I know which side of the line I’ll be standing.’